


Viewfinder

by phisen, TenchiKai



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-01-30 20:09:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12660552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phisen/pseuds/phisen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenchiKai/pseuds/TenchiKai
Summary: “Yuuri, I’m going to Fukoku. How are the possibilities of getting there?”“Huh? You’re going where?”“To Fukukoa.”“Fukuoka?”“Yes, exactly. So, then? Trains? Flights? Anything?”“No, the weather is bad. Too bad, there’s no trains, no buses, no anything!”--As a tragedy befalls one, much needed inspiration strikes the other. This is the story of how they met - of a road trip together.





	1. Shot One: Grief

_ ‘Very few things are as powerful… or as beautiful, as grief. This is a very candid shot. In fact, the subject wasn’t pleased when he discovered it. That said, I was quite taken with the honesty of it all, the inability to contain one’s feelings.’ [not for sale] _

  


In a moment of utter despair, a person has two choices. One; he could try to keep it all together, try to swallow what’s threatening to claw itself out of him, try to keep composed and not be a bother to others. Two; he could just succumb, let the pain and sorrow manifest itself on the outside for it’s too grand and powerful to keep on the inside.

Yuuri Katsuki fought with the choices, and ended up doing a bit of both.

Boarding the plane, he thought that he would be able to stay composed. Being of Japanese heritage had taught him to not make a scene with his emotions taking center stage. Nor was it acceptable to force other people to partake in what he was feeling, especially when it was this personal. But it didn’t take long before he had to excuse himself, make his fellow passengers next to him stand up for he was sitting by the window of course, and head for the lavatories. 

Being in a confined space should, in theory, have helped him in keeping it together. Cabin pressure and all that. But as he locked the door behind him, noticing the wet floor with just a brief hint of disgust before he sat down on the lid, he realised that it didn’t matter. Nothing could ever matter, for he was bound to feel all the things coursing through him until… yeah, until when?

He folded himself over and buried his face in his hands. Breathed, or at least tried do, as the convulsions of grief took him hostage. It was real, it really was, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. Other than blame himself, but that, he did naturally.

_ Five years. Five years! I should’ve… I should’ve visited! But I, no, not even once! _

When he’d emptied himself, feeling parched in many more ways than one, he looked at himself in the mirror. Of course, it showed. Puffy eyes, wet skin, runny nose, trembling hands. But he could pretend not to understand if someone were to ask him what the matter was. He gave himself a mental pat on the back. That was a pretty smart idea.

After returning to his seat, trying to hide his face behind the in-flight magazines with a little too much effort whilst turning it to the side, hearing the refreshments cart made him sigh within. It was a sigh of relief for he had just been granted something almost divine. He could finally forget, at least for a while, and maybe wake up close to having touched Finnish ground.

He just needed it to be over.

**~**~**

A hand rocking him back and forth made him wake up with a jolt. He looked at the stewardess, his eyes widened and panic growing inside. He probably made her jump as much as she made him, for he yelped and almost got to his feet.

“Wh-what time is it?” His head was throbbing and his stomach was churning, the in-flight alcohol had done what it was supposed to.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she replied in that tell-tale Scandinavian accent, that sing-song voice, “we just landed.”

“I understand that, but what time is it?!”

“It’s a quarter past six, local time. Are you heading to a connecting flight?”

He made a quick calculation in his head. Seven hours time difference would mean that the time in Japan was a quarter past one. It was in the middle of the night, but he had to make that call. He just had to.

After correcting his glasses, they were awkwardly askew after his lead leaning against the window of the cabin, he felt his jacket pocket for his phone. The stewardess seemed like she was going to say something, probably something about not turning it on until he had reached the designated area, but seemed to decide against it with a small shrug.

“Thank you for flying with Finnair,” she said with a smile, backing away slightly to let him step out into the aisle. She corrected her navy blue scarf around her neck as she nodded.

He didn’t reply, for he felt it again. Those panicky, bubbly, unreliable feelings. Simmering inside, threatening to boil over. He had to go and get his bag and head off to his connecting flight, and he knew that he had to be quick about it. Doing things made it easier to keep them at bay, the thoughts, and he decided to try his best to refrain from yet another public display.

As he exited the gate, he had to push himself through something that felt like a sea of people. And like the sea, it felt like there was a chance of him getting swallowed up, lost to the current threatening to drag him back out to the vast unknown. It could have been an option, a few days ago he’d probably preferred it, but he was here now. Battling the passengers ready to board the flight he just got off. The wasn’t returning to Detroit, though. It was supposed to go east, he noticed, but not as far as Japan.

“We are preparing to board this Aeroflot flight, number SU0034, to St. Petersburg within the next fifteen minutes, so please have your boarding passes ready,” a male voice sounded, almost unintelligibly, through the gate’s speaker system.

He managed to get to the other side of the sea of people waiting, due to an elaborate dance where he sometimes veered and sometimes got pushed both left and right. As soon as he found a somewhat calm spot, a lagoon in the chaos just outside the small bubble he had put himself in, he took out his phone. Finding the number was easy, it took up probably the last ten, no twenty, listings in his phone. It was late, he knew that, but he needed the reassurance. Needed to hear that things were as okay as they could be.

_ “Mmphh, hello?”  _ The voice took a while to make itself known through the phone, following many reoccurring beeps.

_ “It’s me. Sorry. For waking you.” _

_ “Yuuri? What’s the time? You’re not here yet are you?” _

His insides vibrated. He couldn’t fully comprehend how tired the voice on the other end sounded. How strained it voice was. He didn’t recognise his father at all.

_ “No, dad, I… I’m in Helsinki. So… um… “ _

_ “Listen, I know it’s hard. We all… you know?” _

_ “Mhm.”  _ He exhaled. As he felt his breath come out as a staccato, he knew it was too late for anything resembling dignity.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses away from his face. If they were to fall, it didn’t matter. Not right now. Other things had taken the chance to do that already, and they were more important to hide. Glasses tumbling to the ground could easily be explained. His tears couldn’t.

_ “Yuuri?” _

The silence that spread out told him that his father understood. He understood and he knew. Then again, it was painfully obvious, impossible not to understand and know what was happening with his stuttering breaths, his shivering sniffs, the muffled cries taking up the silent space between them.

_ “I’ll pick you up,”  _ he heard his father say, low through the phone.  _ “Call me if you’re late.” _

He managed to make some kind of affirming sound, which made the call end with a muffled ‘see you soon, then’. Leaving him alone with nothing but the maelstrom of memories, thoughts and emotions that begged for him to give in, just a little.

He put the phone back in his pocket. He hated that he felt so fragile, so volatile. Like anything could set him off and make him go through the motions again and again. To him, it was an endless loop. A torturous, endless nightmare that he still had problems understanding, feeling the impossibility of ever incorporating the fact within himself.

He didn’t have a mother anymore. The one that had carried him, existed for as long as he had, was gone.

“Last call for the Aeroflot flight SU004 to St. Petersburg. We beg passengers to come to gate 24 for boarding, please.”

The sting in his shoulder made him look up as he pivoted. It took him a little less than a fraction of a second to understand that he’d been pushed, but it still felt like something playing out in slow motion. The entire situation slowing everything down.

“Oh, sorry! You’re okay? I’m in a hurry, so…”

His eyes found another pair, as their owner was walking backwards holding a take away coffee cup. Blue, they were. Slightly obscured by silver coloured hair.

He replied in English. “Y-yes, I’mㅡ”

“Perfect!”

He blinked as the man turned around on his heel, hurrying off in the opposite direction. He had to stand and look for a few seconds as everything around him sped up again. He found himself puzzled by the lack of… everything the blue eyed man seemed to possess. Amazing how much information you can get from a brief second’s worth of interaction. He was late, meaning he thought the world revolved around him. He never stopped to see if his push caused any discomfort, meaning he considered himself to be the most important person in his life. He’d interrupted him when he was about to answer his question, meaning he liked to hear himself above others.

As he saw the black coat whip behind his intruder, a black gloved hand raking back hair before it corrected a bag almost sliding off a shoulder, he scoffed. Not noticing that he’d gotten something else to think about for a while.

**~**~**

He should’ve understood that it meant trouble. The departure time of the flight to Fukuoka got delayed once. Twice. When the third call was made, he was way past omens, auguries and luck. He needed to do something. Starting with making sure.

He walked up to the desk at the gate, standing silently to get the attention of the woman furiously tapping away at the keyboard in front of her screen. He mustered up the courage, finally, to ask her about his chances of coming… home? Back?  _ Back home. _

“I’m sorry?”

“Yes?”

“About the flight to uh, Fukuoka? It’s been delayed three times now and Iㅡ”

“It’s cancelled. If you’re going to Japan, you have to go down to the ticket office and see if there’s some other flight you can take. You won’t be going to Fukuoka today.”

“Wait, cancelled?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. Go to the ticket office, down the stairs and to the left.”

When she redirected her eyes at the screen, his hand automatically went down into his pocket. He had to stop himself from doing what he’d always done in a situation like that. This time, he did the same thing although differently, putting his father as the receiver.

**To: Dad**

**Flight’s been delayed. Trying to get another. I’ll be in touch.**

He knew he wouldn’t get an answer. No consoling words. Not this time. Someone else had always been the provider of that.

With his backpack slung over his shoulder, he did what he was told. Walked down the stairs and to the left. There was a queue, naturally, but that didn’t bother him. His mind was somewhere else, lost in something resembling unfairness. Why did it have to happen to him? Why now? Why did any of it happen? To him, his family? His mother?

A gentle shove from the person behind him made him realise that it was his turn. He bowed a little to excuse himself as he walked up to the desk.

“Yesterday? What do you mean  _ yesterday? _ ”

“Yes, it says so on your ticket, sir. Your flight was yesterday, not today.”

He paid no attention to the discussion going on next to him, although it sounded heated. He needed to find solutions now, and focusing on someone other than himself wouldn’t make him find any.

“Good evening, sir,” greeted the woman behind the counter.

“Good evening. I was going to Fukuoka, but it got cancelled. I… I have to get to… I  _ need  _ to get to Japan.”

“Yes, I understand. I’m sorry, the flight got cancelled due to bad weather. Let me see…”

“Bad weather?” He sounded doubtful. His father hadn’t even mentioned it.

“Yes. Apparently, there has been a massive snowfall over Japan andㅡ”

He interrupted her, but inside, it was like he froze. Did nothing else than to paint the most hopeless picture inside his mind. “I  _ need  _ to get to Japan!”

“I understand. One moment please, sir.”

“Yo-you don’t understand. I have to, I mustㅡ” He covered his mouth with a hand as he turned his back to her, trying to push it back in. Back down. His hand didn’t help much, though, and he felt his eyes sting behind his eyelids. He whimpered and felt tears escape him, slowly trickling down his cheeks. He removed his hand from his mouth and drew breath, not knowing if there was any point in trying to get back. To Japan, to his family. To all of the things that had mattered the most to him. All of that, now lost to him.

“Sir?”

He sobbed. Suddenly slightly more aware of eyes, multiple sets of eyes looking at him and just as quickly shying away when his made contact. 

“Sir?”

He turned around, not sure if the voice calling out had to do with him. This time, he was met by eyes that stayed on his.

“There’s a flight to Tokyo, to Narita airport departing in two hours despite the weather. Apparently, it’s not too bad over Tokyo. Do you want me to see if youㅡ”

“Yes! Yes, I, oh, thank you! Please!”

“Seems like it’s possible for you to get a seat on that flight, sir. May I see your passport, please?”

After rummaging around in his backpack, he handed it over. Distress had turned into hope, just like that.

“So, Mr. Katsuki. Yuuri? Is that your given name?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, so… I have successfully booked you to the Finnair flight to Tokyo Narita airport, departing at ten forty-five. Window or aisle?”

He laughed. It was a sound made out of relief, joy, apprehension and fear. He was on his way home. To Japan. To his mother’s funeral.


	2. Shot Two: Body

_‘There’s nothing the human body can’t do. It’s so much more than a vessel for what we call a soul, a personality. And this body with its hills and valleys, this body unknown to me, a map of things unexplored, made me feel lost. And found at the same time.’ [price:_ _Р 65,000_ _]_

 

Saying that the flight was overbooked was an understatement. The mother of understatements, in fact. When boarding started, it was painfully obvious that it would take a while. The queue barely moved, and when it occasionally did, it was with half a step at a time.

Though, beggars can’t be choosers. That was also painfully obvious, so he pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and exhaled. He knew he was to consider himself lucky, getting on any kind of transportation back to Japan. The battle was already half won. The biggest obstacle now was to endure. Ten hours, give or take, in a crowded place with no possible way to get away. Then again, how can one get away from a constant? Constants are there for people to learn how to deal with, looming and ever-present.

He adjusted his backpack before his hand slid down into his pocket again.

**To: Dad**

**I’m going to be late. And land in Tokyo. Something about bad weather? I’ll call you later.**

To him, the queue didn’t matter. He was too wrapped up in his head to notice if it moved or not, almost getting a polite shove every time he could take a couple of steps forward. He put the phone back into his pocket and felt surprised that he could actually see the entrance to the aircraft, smell the scent of perfume, sweat, coffee and freezing air in an otherworldly mix.

“To the left, please,” a flight attendant said, pointing with her hand outstretched after she’d thrown a glance at his ticket. “Past business class, halfway down the cabin.”

He nodded in response.

When he found his seat, he’d chosen the window seat naturally, he realised that his backpack wouldn’t fit the overhead compartment. He wiggled his way past the passenger in the aisle seat, offered a polite ‘sorry’ in Japanese based on the look of the middle-aged man, and sunk down into his seat.

He did the same routine he’d been doing for some time now. A routine that just came naturally. Phone, gallery, family photos. Studying every single one, trying his best to remember every pixel, every irregularity. Then, texts. Scrolling up, way up to the first one in that particular conversation.

**From: Mom**

**Have a safe flight! Call me later, I’ll be up.**

Roughly five years ago, he found himself on another flight. Away from home, the security he now knew that he’d taken for granted. Five years ago, he had been nineteen. Ready spread his wings someplace else, find other paths to follow. Five years ago, he had no idea his first trip back to Japan would be this painful. That it wouldn’t be about reunions at all. Rather, this visit would be about goodbyes.

He barely heard the safety demonstration. He was still busy reading every text, memorising them much like he’d done with the photos. Trying to picture his mother’s voice reading them, the intonation, the highs and lows. Would he forget her voice?

“You have to turn it off,” the man next to him said in Japanese, pointing at his phone.

“Yes, o-of course. I’m sorry.” He put the phone in flight mode and looked out the window, seeing how the plane started to move towards the runway, feeling how it later started to accelerate, pushing him back into his seat and then, Finland started to grow smaller and smaller until it was out of sight, lost somewhere below the clouds.

**~**~**

His resolve lasted exactly for two hours and twenty-three minutes. It was then his mask of calmness and composure started to slip, distorting his face and forcing him to seek refuge again.

The knocks on the door to the lavatory made him even more anxious. He’d been in there for quite some time, doing the few things he thought would work to make him settle. Crying, breathing, thinking, remembering. Rinse. Repeat.

“I’m sorry, I don’t feel well,” he stuttered when he heard yet another knock. “B-but I’m fine!”

“Are you sure, sir?”

“Yes.” He continued, almost inaudibly. Trying to convince himself of the fact. “I’m okay.”

After blowing his nose, washing his hands and taking a deep breath and holding it in for a few seconds, he unlocked the door and exited the lavatory. His eyes found the floor immediately, as he counted the steps back to his seat. He didn’t want to bother anyone with his feelings, hoped no one noticed the redness of his eyes or nose.

He glanced at the passenger in the seat next to him and was taken by surprise. He even forgot to look at the floor or anywhere else, he just stood there, frozen in mid-motion. It wasn’t his seat. The person next to him wasn’t a middle-aged Japanese man. And there he was, looking puzzled beyond compare, gawking at something so… _beautiful._

“Oh. Oh! I-I’m sorry, I must… I must have walked past my s… eat?”

He turned around and looked back. He even took a few steps just to make sure but he didn’t recognise the people sitting next to the aisle.

“No,” he heard from behind him, a deep voice with an accent unknown to him, “that _is_ your seat. Here.”

He turned around, feeling disbelieving at best and saw the sublime creature, he didn’t know how else to describe him, reach out to him. He never saw the hand, though. Just the eyes. The immensely blue eyes somewhat widened out of… amusement, maybe?

“I… wai-what?”

“Here,” the blue eyed man said, and it was obvious he was amused for his lips were curling upwards, revealing a smile that felt ridiculous to receive. It was totally disarming, disgustingly intimate for some reason. “They brought me two. It looks like you could use this.”

The soft clink of ice cubes nudging each other made him, albeit reluctantly, look at the outstretched hand. The drink. Effectively breaking the spell.

_I could use this?_

And just like that, he became aware of himself. Remembered why he’d been hiding in the lavatories for the longest time, why his head had been bent down on his walk of shame back to his seat. Yes, he really could use that drink.

“So,” he began, feeling his pulse quicken for he couldn’t even imagine what he looked like, “it’s okay if I… sit?”

The blue eyed man retracted his hand immediately and stood up, inviting him to find his seat. He sat down a few heartbeats after, passing the small glass over.

“Thank you,” he replied, holding onto the glass with both hands. The cool that spread out in his palms did nothing for the heat that threatened to take over his face. So he looked at the ice cubes, the way they melted in the drink and left almost invisible swirls in their wake, feeling somewhat at ease by their ethereal dance.

“I’m Victor,” he heard the blue eyed man say.

He glanced at Victor a little from the corner of his eye. Yes, he was looking at him. Seemingly interested, waiting for an introduction to be offered his way.

“I’m Yuuri,” he said, daring to turn his head a little more. Daring to face him.

“So, Yuuri. Want another one?” Victor nodded at the glass.

“No, I… no, thanks.”

“Okay. So… I take it you’re Japanese? Going home?”

Suddenly, the heat coursing just underneath his skin got exchanged for a paralysing cold instead. Yes, he was going home, kind of, but to a different kind of home. A new constellation, one still unknown to him.

In that second, it couldn’t have been more than that, he wanted Victor to stop. Stop looking at him, stop offering him drinks, stop asking him questions. Being fragile, feeling unsure and not stable next to someone who seemingly had it all, was the ultimate humiliation. For what could a person like that know about heartbreak?

“Let’s talk about me instead!”

The unexpected interjection made him look at Victor, who stretched out his arms and legs almost nonchalantly, taking up and invading too much space. Then, he remembered that Victor had done that before, even though it was hours ago. Pushing into him, invading and taking up space. But… he still listened. Listened to Victor talk about all and everything, although it was smalltalk without substance.

After an hour or so, he knew that Victor spoke three languages. He liked to work out in his spare time. He once had a dog, but it died of old age. He was from Russia, and lived in St. Petersburg, ‘very close to Finland, actually’. He liked beautiful things, although he never specified what that could possibly entail. He was bad with alcohol although it took a lot for him to lose his footing, so he probably wouldn’t be drinking more than he already had. Oh, and he was twentyseven. That seemed important.

Although it was close to a monologue, him only responding off and on with a ‘mhm’, or a ‘is that so’, not once did Victor ask him anything personal. Not once did Victor let the silence become awkward. Not once… did he make him feel uncomfortable. Strange that, after such a tumultuous first meeting. One Victor had seemed to forget.

At first, it didn’t seem strange. How Victor stayed close to him, orbited around him even after they’d gotten off the plane. He was a stranger to Japan, after all. He asked questions about where to pick up the luggage, how to pass through the passport control, where to go to get a coffee. Not strange at all. What was strange, though, was how he started to act when it felt natural to part ways. When he became slightly more intimate, standing a little too close.

“So, um,” Yuuri started, “thank you. For the drink. I must see if I can, I mean, I’m not staying in Tokyo.”

“Oh?” Victor looked around in his messenger bag, seemingly uninterested. It seemed bottomless, considering the amount of time he spent rummaging around in it.

“I… I need to go. See if there’s a train going where I’m supposed to.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. So, thaㅡ”

“Hey, maybe you can interpret something for me? I’m not staying in Tokyo either, I kind of need to know where to go.”

“Oh, okay. Sure, thenㅡ”

“ㅡ I’ll know where to go.”

“... right.” Somehow, he doubted that. Victor seemed to be a person that was well put together, at least, as far as his appearances went, but he seemed oblivious at best when it came to, well, life. Following him around only cemented that view he had of him.

Still, they went off together. Yuuri in front and Victor in tow, heading to Narita’s information centre.

“ _Excuse me,”_ Yuuri started, “ _I’m trying to get to Hasetsu, in Saga? I got rebooked to Tokyo when I was trying to get to Fukuoka but I still need to get there.”_

“ _Oh. I’m sorry, sir, that’s a problem. The weather is horrible down south._ ”

“ _Yes, I heard as much, but I’m not trying to get there by plane. I can take the train, go by bus. I just... need to get there._ ”

“ _Well, oh… There aren’t any trains going south at the moment and the buses are cancelled. The weather is horrible. I’m so sorry, but your best bet is to probably try and wait it out?_ ”

“ _Wait… it out?_ ”

“ _Yes. They said on the news that the blizzard is very close to Tokyo, it’ll probably come in during the night. No sane person would try to battle the weather, not when it’s this aggressive._ ”

“ _I… Th-thank you._ ” He turned around, feeling that clawing sensation again. He had nothing but two options going for him. Hunker down somewhere in Tokyo, and hope for the weather to clear up and that traffic could get back to its normal rhythm or just go. Head to Hasetsu in any way possible, immediately. But how?

“Yuuri?”

Victor’s voice startled him and as he felt himself flinch, he became embarrassed. Not by the fact that he got startled, but by the fact that he had forgotten that Victor was there.

“Yuuri, I’m going to Fukoku. How are the possibilities of getting there?”

“Huh? You’re going where?”

“To Fukukoa.”

“Fukuoka?”

“Yes, exactly. So, then? Trains? Flights? Anything?”

“No, the weather is bad. Too bad, there’s no trains, no buses, no anything!” He tried to let his emotions slip through, but they did.

“Huh. So… where are you going?”

“I… I’m going farther than Fukuoka. Hasetsu.”

“Oh? What, it’s on the way?”

“Yes, somewhat.” He started to feel slightly annoyed by Victor’s constant questions. He wanted him to be quiet for a moment at least, he needed to think.

“Yuuri. If I say that I know how the both of us will get to where we’re supposed to be, hopefully in time, what would you say?”

He looked at Victor. Saw how his eyes had widened some, a small smile teasing his lips. He had an offer he apparently was dying to disclose. Seeing that boyish joy, that childish anticipation, made him smile too as he unknowingly opened up a door with his answer.

“What do you have in mind?”  


**~**~**

He suddenly hated himself for saying yes, but right then and there, he’d been desperate. And, truth be told, he had a feeling even before it started that it would end up the way it did, adding to the influx of self-loathing.

But, he had said yes and the consequences were, at least in part, on him. That’s why he sat with his knuckles whitening, as Victor maneuvered the tiny Toyota through the streets of Tokyo.

“Vi-Victor! You can’t go there! We drive on the left side! Left side! Watch theㅡ”

“Easy, Yuuri! It’s not easy for me to concentrate with you screaming like that, you know?”

“Do you even have a license?!”

“Hey!”

“I… I’m sorry. But you’re making me nervous!”

“Tell you what. You just tell me what exits to take and nothing else. Okay?”

He never responded to that, but he did what he was told with his phone in hand, guiding Victor through the relatively empty streets.

As they got out of Tokyo and headed down the increasingly empty road towards Kyoto, driving extremely slowly due to the fact that the blizzard had crashed into the eastern parts of Japan like a freight train, Victor finally spoke with a voice that was soft and warm. A total contrast to the weather.

“How far is Fukuoka?”

“How far? Um… the GPS says it’ll take twelve hours by car. Butㅡ”

“Oh, that won’t happen. The weather is crazy.”

“Yes, I was about to say that.”

“I won’t be driving long periods of time in this weather. Just to let you know.”

“I… I’m not in a position to make demands, so…”

“Exactly.”

They sat in silence for a while, next to each other. Hearing nothing but the low squeaks of the windshield wipers going back and forth, fighting the snow that fell. Yuuri dared to take a proper look at Victor, then. Somehow, it felt safer looking at him when he wasn’t looking at him, when he was preoccupied with other things. Like concentrating. Keeping quiet.

He had a wonderful profile. The way his hair fell in front of his left eye so that Victor had to brush it away time and time again, was mesmerising to him. Its colour, too. So unusual with myriads of strands ranging from translucent to silver. How his jawline was extremelyㅡ

“No, I think we need to stop. I’m feeling jet lagged,” Victor let out a sigh that was desperately close to a yawn. “Where do you think we can sleep for the night?”

That was something he hadn’t even thought of. Sleep. A million questions popped up in his head as a result. How long had they even been driving?

“I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “You feel like stopping right away, or…?”

“When’s the nearest town?”

“Oh, um… we can stay in Shizuoka, probably,” he responded, fiddling with his phone. “We’ll be there in half an hour or so.”

“What’s there?”

“I’m not sure. A place to stay, hopefully.”

“Do you think there will be rooms available? If no one can go anywhere in this weather then…”

Yuuri’s heart suddenly clenched. That small detail suddenly became his only focus as he almost erratically went from hotel to hotel on his phone. With every passing kilometre, his nervousness grew. They couldn’t sleep out in the car, there was no way.

Eventually, they reached Shizuoka. Victor patiently drove around, waiting for instructions, where to go.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said apologetically, “but it seems hard to get rooms. I… I’m sorry, Victor.”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. After all, you’re going with me, right? Maybe I should apologise?”

“No, Iㅡ”

“There! Yuuri! To the right,” Victor suddenly exclaimed. “It said ‘open’ didn’t it? Wait, I’ll turn around.”

“Oh? I must have missed it. Where?”

“Here.” Victor’s voice sounded jubilant, he was apparently pleased with his efforts.

And yes, it was a hotel but… not the one Yuuri ever pictured himself to enter. Not with a man like Victor. Not with anyone. But he realised that a few seconds too late.

“Hi!” Victor approached the man sitting behind the counter with a smile. “Do you have any rooms for the night?”

“ _I’m sorry, I don’t speak English._ No English. No good.”

Somehow, that idea of Victor being oblivious made itself known again. As Yuuri discreetly eyed the lobby, if it could be called that, he suddenly realised what they had found. The fact that the receptionist, trying desperately to get Victor to understand that Victor’s Japanese probably was much better than his English, sat with an erotic comic book only cemented the fact.

“Victor!” Yuuri hissed under his breath. “We are _not_ staying here.”

“What? You want to sleep in the car?”

“No, but… this place, it’sㅡ”

“Fine, isn’t it?”

“No, this is a… a love hotel. Victor, you know what that is?”

“No?”

Yuuri sighed. Tried his hardest not to get a fraction of a second’s worth of eye contact with the man behind the counter and tried to explain with a voice that was filled to the brim of embarrassment.

“This… is a place where you, uh, pay by the hour. You know?”

Victor seemed to mull the description over, tapping his lips slightly with his index finger before he smiled and gave Yuuri a mischievous look. “What, a hotel people only use to have sex in?”

“Y-yes.”

“Oh. Wow.” Victor sounded concerned. “Can’t you at least ask if there’s anything available?” Or maybe not.

“I am _not_ staying here.”

“Yuuri, listen. If I’m going to drive, then I need sleep. To get sleep, I need a bed. To get a bed, one kind of needs to get a room. I don’t care where. I just want to sleep. Okay?”

Yuuri groaned. But only on the inside. “ _Excuse me,_ ” he said, trying his best not to let his voice deceive him, “ _but are there rooms available?_ ”

“ _Sure,_ ” the man behind the counter replied with a wry smile. “ _We’ve got a room. Want it?_ ”

“ _I, uh, yes. We need separate rooms, though. We’re not, I mean, he’s_ ㅡ”

“ _We have_ a _room. Want it or not?_ ”

“ _Wait a second,_ ” he breathed, turning to Victor. “There’s a room, butㅡ”

“Tell him we’ll take it!”

“Wait! It’s just, there’s, I mean, there’s just one room!”

“Tell him we’ll take it,” Victor repeated, picking out a credit card from his wallet. “You must have slept together with someone in a room before, right?”

Yuuri felt defeated as he silently declared that they would be staying the night.  


**~**~**

Victor was the one unlocking the door, kicking off his shoes within the second he’d entered the room.

“Wow! This is amazing!”

It was apparent that they had very different views on what could be considered amazing. Yuuri cringed when he stepped into the room. Maybe it was because of the bright red walls or maybe it was because of Victor’s interjection that followed, but he felt his pulse quicken. Felt his palms getting clammy. He wanted to have nothing to do with this place.

“Ha, look at this! The bed is inside a cage! Kinky, huh!”

Yuuri’s eyes followed Victor as he took the few steps needed to reach the bed. He quickly looked into the bathroom and noticed that except for the toilet, a slightly dripping showerhead was the only thing taking up space in the ridiculously small space.

“So, Yuuri! We’ll have to sleep in the same bed, it seems. Okay with you?”

His response was automatic. “No, I can sleep on the floor!”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“No, I mean, you’re the one driving so of course you’re taking the bed!”

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Victor said with a hardness to his voice, and took off his coat. “Need the bathroom?”

“No…”

Yuuri was quick to open his luggage and pull out a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He changed clothes and eyed the cage around the bed before he sat down on the edge.

Eventually, Victor came out of the bathroom without anything on top, his unbuttoned trousers resting low on his hips. Yuuri was quick to avert his eyes.

“Give me the bedspread and a pillow,” Victor said, taking off his trousers and folding them together with the rest of his clothes.

Yuuri was quick to gather up the bedspread and gave Victor a pillow. He watched Victor disappear, probably curled up by the foot of the bed.

Yuuri dared to break the silence after a while, after sitting immovable against the headboard. “Shall I turn the lights off?”

“Yeah. Night.”

“Goodnight.”

To Yuuri, it sounded like Victor fell asleep within seconds. His breathing changed into something slow, something deep, something carefree. Oh, to be able to feel that way. To feel relaxed without torturous thoughts taking over. Yuuri realised that he missed that. Longed for that.

Even though he was tired, exhausted even, he couldn’t fall asleep. He was worried. Worried about reaching Hasetsu in time. Worried about the weather. Worried about… well, the man sleeping on the floor. His life was in Victor’s hands until further notice, he realised that, and he felt somewhat silly for not standing his ground about sleeping on the floor. That was why he asked a question he never thought he would.

“Victor? If you are awake I think… I think you should sleep in the bed. You’re driving.”

After a while, Victor responded. His voice wasn’t raspy from the hour or so of sleep. “Oh? And you?”

“I can sleep on the floor.”

“You’re guiding me so you’re just as important. Honestly, stay. It’s big enough. We won’t even touch.”

Initially, Yuuri had been worried. That feeling slowly became something else. A slight tension, maybe even a nervousness when he felt the mattress shift underneath Victor’s weight. Even though they were perfectly still back to back with enough space in between them, Victor felt close. Like his body emitted a heat even though he had nothing on but his underwear. Even though he wasn’t sharing the duvet.

“Okay?” Victor’s voice sounded low in the dark.

“Yes,” Yuuri replied, but it was a lie.

“Good. Night, Yuuri.”

“Night.”

It was indeed a lie, for as soon as Victor’s breaths became slow and deep again, his own took another route. They became quickened. Shallow. Reacting to memories he had been able to keep away for a while whilst sitting next to Victor, feeling panicked over other reasons entirely.

A small whimper escaped him, and he quickly covered his mouth, kept his eyes closed so tightly. He wasn’t sure at that moment, for it could have just as well been the duvet shifting on top of his quivering body, but it felt like his back was touched for a fleeting second. A touch that left a warmth behind in its wake.

The next morning, Yuuri found himself alone in the room. After pawing after his glasses, he noticed that Victors luggage was still on the floor, in the same spot he’d left it. That gave him a strange kind of comfort, as he got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Victor was going to return and take him closer to where he needed to be.

The water took some time to get warm, but he endured. The heat that travelled across his skin felt divine, making him sigh.

As he was tilting his head back, rinsing off the cheap combined hair and bodywash, he heard a muted click. It sounded close, but not exactly as distinct and sharp as the sound of a door closing.

He knew that Victor was back. It was time to continue.


End file.
